Whispers of Gold
by r3tro Roxel
Summary: There are many stories of love and hate. 7 friends and their pasts, each full of pain. These are their stories. Each one has a tale to tell, and what may seem like many accounts of their memories, eventually becomes only one. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1 Dreams Soda x Pony

I know that I usually write Death Note fanfics, but I've recently become completely OBSESSED with the book The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. It's the greatest book ever. Read it. This is the beginning of a collection of stories using just about EVERY pairing in The Outsiders. Except for the straight ones. And the just plain lame ones. (Such as Bob x Randy. I mean, seriously. Soc Love? EW. Greaser Love? YES.) Anyways, I've decided to start off with one of my personal favorite Outsiders pairings. This IS my first Outsiders fanfic (and my first Outsiderscest fic) so be gentle on me. I wrote this in about 10 minutes, and I'm too lazy to make any revisions. I know this doesn't make very much sense, but what the heck. It's a fanfic. Anything can happen, and anything will. Though sometimes you get more than you bargained for.

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Dreams

Soda x Pony

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I awoke covered in a cold sweat. I sat upright, my nails digging into the mattress. I could barely see anything in the shadowy room, and what I couldn't see, my over-active imagination made up for. With a small, shuddering sob, I laid back down on my side, facing the wall.

A few tears rolled down my cheeks. At least I knew here no one would judge me for crying. And if they knew why, they'd probably laugh even more.

I had had another nightmare. It was about Mom and Dad. But I just couldn't remember what it was that had made it so scary. I just knew that my heart was pounding like crazy, and that all I wanted was someone to comfort me.

It was then, I realized that person was laying right next to me. Well, I didn't realize it, per se. The thought finally came to me as the form of my brother stirred beneath the covers, causing me to give a small cry as I shivered.

"Ugh... Ponyboy, that you?" Soda muttered drowsily, turning to face what he presumed what was my face but was really my back; his arm groping around randomly as he searched for me, half asleep.

I turned to face my brother, grabbing his wrist gently and laying his arm over my shoulder in the familiar gesture that was always performed before we went to sleep. "Yeah..." I said quietly, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

By now, Soda was a bit more awake. His large, beautiful eyes opened and blinked in an effort to get the sleep out of them. I could feel a light blush tinge my cheeks. Everyone acknowledged that my brother was incredibly handsome, like some sort of movie star. It just seemed that when he was sleepy he looked even more gorgeous. It seemed as though sleep had that effect on most people; my older brother especially. I gave an involuntary shiver.

"Hn, you okay? You cold or something?" He asked sleepily as he shuffled around, trying to get comfortable again, eventually wrapping his right arm around my waist.

"I..." With a swallow, I continued. It was a little hard to concentrate with my brother's arm around me. I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead, but it wasn't because of the dream.

"I had another dream about Mom and Dad..." I whispered. By then, Soda was wide awake. His large eyes stared at me.

"Do you remember any of it?" He demanded, pulling me slightly closer, in either an attempt to keep me warm or to keep me safe from who knows what. With an inward groan I realized he was acting like Darry.

"No... well, um... it was just... I kind of... all I remember is that something terrible happened..." I stammered, trying hard to get the words out without sounding like more of an idiot that I already was.

Soda gave a grin, squeezing me tightly, though not in a painful way. I could feel a small smile creeping it's way onto my face. Soda always had that effect on me. His smile made him look even more beautiful than normal.

"Well, it's okay now, right? You got me and Darry to help you!" He said cheerfully.

No, Soda. You're wrong. You're the only one that can help me. Darry doesn't care. I thought.

"Hn, thanks, Sodapop..." I whispered, snuggling my head into his chest. He made me feel so safe, so secure. I would much rather have him as my only brother instead of having Darry as well.

Darry. It seemed as though we weren't even related at times. He always expected me to be perfect, like some sort of angel. As if that was possible. Living this kind of life, being a Greaser, fighting Socs, how was it possible for me to be the world's greatest child?

I remembered the way he had screamed at me that night. I had forgotten to do my homework, and instead had gone to the Nightly Double with Johnny. I knew that as soon as I stepped in the door there would be trouble. Darry had stormed up to me, fuming, my unfinished work crumpled in his right hand. Soda stared silently from the couch, his eyes wide with fear. Was he afraid of Darry or afraid for me? I wasn't sure.

"PONYBOY CURTIS!" Darry had screamed, and I flinched, shielding myself slightly with my trembling hands.

"Where the hell have you been?! It's almost 3 in the morning!" His eyes blazed holes through my heart. With a shaky voice, I answered.

"I... I went to the Nightly Double with Johnny..." I mumbled pathetically.

"God damn it, Pony!" Darry shouted as he smacked the papers onto the coffee table. Soda jumped slightly, bringing his legs up onto the couch with him as though there were spiders all across the floor.

"You never think, do you?! You never think of anything important! While I'm here, working my ass off to keep you and Soda out of a god damn boy's home, you're just living it up, ain'tcha?! They all say you're smart, Pony, but I sure as hell ain't thinking so now! You could get a scholarship! Then, you'd be able to go to college! Unlike me! Since Mom and Dad died, I've had to stay home and deal with you little son of a bitch so you ain't gonna end up in some orphanage! You're useless, Pony! Fucking useless!" He screamed, grabbing my collar as he did so. I didn't even say anything. Tears were already pouring down my cheeks.

The only sound in the room was Darry's heaving breaths after his outburst, and as I watched him, I could see the realization of what he'd just done creeping across his features. His eyes turned soft, watching me stand there and cry. Everything was blurry now, and there was a sort of buzzing in my ears. I knew then that he hated me. He hated me and wanted me to just leave him alone, forever. Leave him with Soda, who apparently could take care of himself. I was nothing.

"Pony, I'm s-" Darry began, but I shoved him forward suddenly, and began darting towards my room, tripping over the coffee table in the process. I ignored the sting in my knees, and scraped myself off the carpeting. Now my hands stung with rugburn, but I didn't care. I could hear voices shouting my name, but I didn't care. I rushed into my room, and slammed the door behind me. I collapsed on my bed, and with tears still streaming down my face, slipped into a restless sleep. And that was when I began to dream.

I could feel myself begin to cry again now, snuggled up next to Soda. I could feel myself trembling with silent sobs, and Soda noticed, too.

"Hey, Pony..." He whispered, bringing my face level to his with the gentle push of his fingers beneath my chin. His eyes glowed softly in the darkness, and there was a casual smile painted on his face.

"You alright, sweetie?" He asked, brushing some hair out of my face. I looked at him, and wiped away some tears with the back of my hand.

"It's... it's Darry..." I whispered, almost feeling as though I had betrayed my brother. I knew how much Soda admired him, but, surprisingly, Soda wasn't mad.

"Ah, that old guy..." He said, placing his chin on top of my head and squeezing me slightly.

"You know he doesn't mean it, Pony. He loves you to death, I swear. He just doesn't know how to express it... so he yells at you. It's just because he cares, Pony. He just wants you to have what he didn't, that's all..." Soda murmured, and I found his hand slipped into mine and squeezing it slightly. I knew that my face was most likely turning red.

"But you know what?" He said, bringing our faces level once more. He had a sly smile on his face, and I was sure that my eyes were wide with confusion.

"What..?" I asked hesitantly, and instinctively squeezed his hand.

Soda looked up and to the right for a moment, his lips in some sort of pout. When his gaze returned, it was fixed right on my eyes.

"I love you more." He said simply, and with a sudden jerk, he pressed his lips against mine. I gave a sort of strangled squeak, and flinched in surprise. But then, I closed my eyes and just sort of let the kiss take over me. Soda sort of crawled so he was on top of me, supporting his weight with his hands as he continued to kiss me. My arms lay limp at my sides as I let Soda do all the work. It all just felt so good.

Soda was very gentle, for he knew this was my first kiss. Suddenly, this thought jarred me. My first kiss was with a boy... and my brother, too! My eyes opened wide in panic, and I pulled away from Soda, my body shaking. Soda apparently expected this, and gently pulled me back down to my place next to him. I was shivering, my eyes wide with fear. He placed a gentle finger on my lips, silencing my chattering teeth.

"Pony, I know what you're thinking," He said, his eyebrows raised as he stared at me gravely. I was still shivering, so he pulled me into his warm embrace. I immediately stopped shuddering, though I was still incredibly scared.

"It's fine, alright... look, my first kiss was with D-" Soda cut off suddenly, and bit his lip as he realized he had made a huge mistake.

"What?!" I asked incredulously. "Your first kiss was with Darry??" The thought shocked me. I thought Soda's first kiss was with Sandy. Then again, up until now, I thought he loved Sandy, not me.

My train of thought suddenly took a hairpin turn. "But what about Sandy?" I asked. This apparently hadn't come to Soda. He blinked a few times and shrugged.

"What about her?" He asked casually, giving a lopsided smile. I nearly fell over. I felt as though I was talking to a kid.

"So-DA!" I groaned, covering my eyes with one hand. "What if Darry ever finds out?!" I asked, vaguely indicating to the door with my free hand. When it fell back to the covers, however, I found Soda had grabbed it, and was entwining our fingers together. He scooted really close to me, his lips at my ear, and whispered, "Let him find out."

Suddenly, all my worries were gone. I knew that with Soda, things would be alright. I ignored the fact that I was kissing lips that Darry had also kissed, that Sandy had also kissed. That didn't matter now. Soda was mine, I was his. All we needed was each other.

The next morning, Soda and I were wrapped in each others' arms, dreaming peacefully. At one point, Darry probably walked in and yelled at us to get up, thinking why wasn't Soda up already.

He would also probably be wondering later why I was unnaturally happy, despite having unfinished homework, and why there were a couple red marks on the necks of me and Soda. But I didn't care. And that day, before he headed off to work and before I headed off to school, Soda managed to plant the gentlest of kisses on my lips before Darry saw and before he was late. I smiled as he left, letting his hand slip gently out of mine.

Before he ran off down the street, however, he formed a small heart with his fingers and pointed towards me, before jumping over a trashcan and subsequently knocking it over. I shook my head and grinned as I packed my backpack. Good ol' Soda. He'd always be there for me.

We may have been brothers, and we may have been in love, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was we were both happy. And, more importantly, I thought and smiled, Darry didn't know. Absentmindedly, I rubbed one of the marks on my neck. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly and gave a half-smile.

Boy, would I have a story for Johnny.


	2. Chapter 2 Rain Dally x Darry

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Rain

Dally x Darry

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Dally flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, and dug it out with the toe of his boot. The rain was coming down in great, heavy sheets around him. He was already soaked to the bone, so the nearly frozen drops had no effect on him. He looked up to the sky, and blew a perfect smoke ring into the air. The tendrils of mist soon faded into the water that was falling from the sky. Giving a satisfied sigh, he stood up from his former leaning position against a fence and began to walk down the street.

He had no where to go, no place to be. He hadn't been home in over 3 days, and he was sure his dad didn't give a crap. His dad never cared. Dally knew that even if he were to die in a car wreck, his dad wouldn't care. The only solace he could find was in the group of greasers that he called his friends.

Suddenly giving a small shiver under his jacket, Dally realized exactly how cold he was. He had been out in the rain for who knows how long, hours maybe. Plus, the fall night was already freezing, probably in the 40's, he guessed. The only thing he knew was that he was cold, and he needed somewhere to go.

Back to his own house was an obvious no. No one went to Johnny's house anyways. Two Bit was never home, but his mom wouldn't agree to letting a JD like Dally spend the night there. Steve's dad would kick him out like he did Steve. The only other place left was the Curtis' house.

Starting off at a light jog, his hands in his pockets in a feeble attempt to keep at least that part of his body warm, he headed for the Curtis'. He knew he'd be allowed there. In fact, on most mornings you could find at least one of the greasers passed out on the couch from an evening of boozing, fighting, or because of their parents. Dally just hoped that there'd be no one there besides the Curtis brothers. He wasn't exactly eager for any unnecessary company.

Looking up at the run-down shack of a house and the metal fence in front of him, Dally quietly unhooked the lock of the gate, the sounds of the rain shattering around him and dogs yowling their heads off due to the prospect of staying outside ringing in his ears like the gunshot of a cannon. He could see a light on in the living room, Darry seated on a chair beneath it, reading the newspaper. There was no one asleep on the couch, thank god. All he had to do now was go through Darry.

Dally wasn't exactly scared of Darry, like some of the other greasers were. Sure, he was strong. Sure, he was mean. But, so was Dal. And it just didn't seem like that much of a challenge to get past him. For some reason, everyone else had some sort of fear of Darry. All Dally could give him, besides his muscles, was that he demanded a high level of respect. That was all Darry had going for him, in his opinion. Then again, Dally's opinion usually differed from the rest of the world's. But that was because he was Dally. And no one really had an explanation as to why he was how he was anyways.

The screen door opened with a creak, then closed with a slam. Darry looked up from his newspaper, and wasn't all that surprised to see Dally standing in the doorway, soaking wet.

"Hey, Dal. Couch's free tonight." He said, flicking his head towards the couch before returning to read the paper.

"Thanks." Sitting down, Dally brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. He was wondering why Darry didn't notice that he was dripping water everywhere. At that moment, however, Darry looked up, his brow furrowed slightly in a show of slight confusion.

"You need a towel or some'n?" He asked, his eyes, which Dally now noticed looked like floating green icebergs, widened slightly as they stared at the pool of water on the floor which marked Dally's movements.

"Yeah, that'd be fine." Darry then stood up and headed for the bathroom, and as he did, Dally took a Kool from his jacket pocket. He cursed at it good-naturedly for being damp and soggy, and then crumpled the cigarette up and shoved it back to it's former home.

Darry walked into the room holding a towel, and tossed it towards the soaking figure on the couch. Dally gladly began to wipe off his face with it. It was kind of scratchy, but he didn't care.

"Hey, Dal." The raven-haired boy said. Now, Darry and Dally weren't exactly the greatest of pals, but they could at least hold a conversation. This was what Darry had started now.

"Hm?" Dally said in response, due to being unable to speak for scrubbing his head dry.

"Don'tcha wanna take that jacket off? You'll get sick if you don't." The comment was casual, but it hit Dally like a freight train. Since when had Darry been allowed to tell him what he should or shouldn't do? He was Dallas Winston, for Chrissake. How the hell could this guy order him around?

"Hey, I'll take it off when I damn well feel like it." Dally spat angrily, giving a frown as he continued to dry off.

"Huh, I'd expect you to be a bit nicer, since we're giving you a place to stay 'n all." Darry replied coolly. Dally gave a small snarl under his breath. Sometimes Darry could be the most annoying bastard on the planet. He continued to try to soak up the water that had seemed to have seeped into his soul. It was as he was drying off his hair that he was surprised. "Woah!"

Darry had grabbed Dal by the shoulder, and was wrenching the wet jacket off by the arm. Dally gave another cry as he was spun around and fell onto the couch. When he yanked his head up from the cushions, he saw Darry standing with the jacket slung over his shoulder and a look of grim triumph on his face.

"The hell, man?!" Dally cried, standing up. He was now only in his short-sleeved black T-shirt, his necklace waving back and forth from the sudden movement. Darry continued to grin at him, the jacket dripping even more water onto the floor. Dally frantically tried to snatch it away, but Darry moved it away so fast that all Dally grabbed was thin air.

Giving a growl, Dally tried again. He failed. Suddenly, Darry's smile vanished as he saw Dal's arm.

"Dal," he began, and Dally stopped trying to get his jacket back and scowled. "What?!" He demanded. He was angry now, his eyes blazing with fury.

"What happened to you arm?" Darry asked, motioning to Dally's left arm with his free hand. Dally's eyes softened with surprise, and he tilted his head and bent his arm upwards to look. There was a steady stream of blood flowing down it, dripping off his fingers and onto the floor.

"Oh, Tim and I got into a fight a few hours ago. He must've caught me with a knife. Guess I didn't notice." Dally said, giving a small shrug. Darry gave a scowl, his cold blue eyes staring into Dally's equally frigid gaze. After a moment of glaring, however, Dally's vision darted down to the ground, unable to withstand the emotions that seemed to be pouring out of the older boy's eyes. It was at this time that Darry spoke.

"I'm gonna go get you a bandage or some'n for that cut; it might get infected." With a small spin, Darry had tossed Dal's jacket on the couch, and was jogging towards the bathroom once more. Dally gave a small smirk at his retreating form, and gently brushed a finger against the cut. It was bleeding pretty badly, he noted as he rubbed the red liquid between two fingers.

He looked up as Darry came into the room, carrying a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a rag, and a bandage. "Here, sit down." The older boy said, motioning towards the couch with his head, due to having his hands full of supplies. Dally flopped down easily onto the couch, stretching his arms out over the cushions behind him in a relaxed gesture.

"You gotta give me your arm, dumbass, otherwise I can't clean it." Darry said firmly, grabbing Dally's wrist and wrenching his arm towards him before he could make a smart comment or react. Dally gave a frown as he watched Darry remove the lid from the bottle of peroxide and soak a corner of the rag in it. He didn't like how Darry kept pushing him around like this. It bugged him.

"Ow! God damn it!" Dally hissed as the sting of the peroxide sunk into his cut. Closing his eyes tightly and frantically chomping down on one of his knuckles to control his shouts, Dally felt like beating the wall in. The pain was excruciating. It crawled up and down his arm like some sort of parasite, making his body tingle with pain.

"Shut the hell up, I'm almost done!" Darry commanded. "Well, hurry the fuck up!" Dally said between clenched teeth. He began to pound on his knee to try to distract himself.

"God dammit, Dally, stop squirmin'! Look, see - there, there - it's done!" The raven-haired boy said, raising his hands in a submissive gesture as he stood up and backed away a few steps. Dally glared at him from the couch, his icy eyes attempting to drill holes in Darry's.

"THAT FUCKING HURT!" He screamed, not caring whether any of the sleeping Curtis's in the house were woken. Darry rolled his eyes, dropped the rag, and turned and began to walk away, slapping his pockets angrily. "Jesus Christ! SHUT. UP!" He snarled, his fingers intertwining with his thick locks and tugging at them in frustration.

Dally gave only a disgusted snort in response, and proceeded in lighting up a now less-soggy Kool. "Just get it the fuck over with..." He muttered, talking through his smoke. Smoking always helped distract him. He could already feel the pain turning into a dull throb in the back of his skull. It still hurt like shit, but at least less so.

"Fine..." Darry sighed, and proceeded in wrapping the bandage around the now-disinfected gash. They sat in silence for a while, Dally smoking, Darry wrapping. After a few winces and minutes later, Dally was looking satisfactorily at his bandaged arm. Darry smiled triumphantly, snatching the supplies off the couch with a flourish.

"Huh, that was pretty good, Darry..." Dally said, raising his eyebrows and giving a shrug. "Huh, no thanks to you. All you did was complain." Darry teased good-naturedly, tossing Dally a blanket. "You sleeping here, I presume?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Dally adjusted himself on the couch, his still damp jacket underneath him, a soft blanket above him. His arm still felt a little pained from the scar, and from the constricting effects of the bandage, but at least he didn't have to worry about it getting infected. As Darry reached up to turn off the light before heading to bed himself, Dally interrupted him.

"Hey, uh, Darry?" He said, a slight tone of embarrassment in his voice. Darry gave a smug smile, and placed his hands on his hips. "Oh, yes, my sweet prince?" He taunted, his voice oozing with sarcasm.

Ignoring this comment, Dally went on. "Uhh... thanks for, uh, fixing... my arm, and... everything..." He stammered clumsily, looking down sometimes as he struggled to find the right words. Giving a slight nod, Darry smiled. The rain outside pattered against the windows, the storm having calmed down within the last half hour.

"No sweat, buddy. See ya in the morning." He said. In the semi-darkness of the room, he thought he saw Dally smile. Or maybe not smile. More like a half-smile. Maybe they were friends after all. Or at least they could be.

"G'night, Darry."

"Night, Dal."

And with a click, the lights went out.

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Darry looked at the body in front of him, the crumpled form beneath the streetlight. The rain was coming down in gentle drops, just enough to disguise your face if you were crying. Darry was incredibly grateful for it.

He had heard the police's shots as they cracked through the night like peroxide on a bad cut. He had seen the bullets tear through skin, leaving only a blood-stained mess behind, worse than the slash of a knife. He had also caught a glimpse of a rare, grim smile painted on a certain bloodied face.

A life had been lost. Maybe not a very important life in the eyes of most people, but to him, it was. The life of a greaser, maybe. The life of a hood, probably. The life of a friend; the one thing he didn't want to admit.

And maybe even more than a friend. No one would know now.

Darry looked on at Dally's bloody form lying beneath the streetlight. The lamp gave a gentle flicker, shrouding Dally's body in darkness for a millisecond. If you had been looking in Darry's cold, iceberg eyes, you would have seen them dim along with the lamp.

The light in his life was gone. He was never coming back.

As the rain came down on the streets, hiding even the most obvious crier's tears, Darry stared on at the one he could call a friend. The smile was still painted on his face, and it always would be. He found himself caught by those cold, unforgiving eyes that now showed a glint of happiness. Had it all been on purpose? The up above remind him of the tears running down his cheeks as he looked at the dead body of his friend.

He looked, he cried, and he remembered.


End file.
